I HIT ON THIS

last time.

My past.

Well, how was yours?”

You first.

“Oh, me first? Okay.

“The old cliché – ‘Where do I start?’

We could go on for days about old clichés I suppose

But it would only be a stalling action.”

Yes Gary, it would. Out with it.

“I fell in with a fast crowd in grade school and they...

Is that believable?”

No it ain’t, out with it.

”I learned right from wrong, good from evil, early in life.

I also learned how to hide the bad from them, the grownups.

The busted butt was a quick and effective teacher.

It taught me to be a hideout, to sin in private

To never admit, to always slime away from confrontations

To lie, cheat and steal.

“Is that better?”

It’s a start. Please continue.

“Was so easy to sit at the end of the bench on the sidelines

Hide in the corner of the dugout

To be a dweller in the background

There I found like fellows, co-harts

We enabled each other, told ourselves we were really okay

That we were a swell bunch of heads and

Knew the real skinny and…”

That you were a bunch of flakes and phonies.

"But we were just kids and…”

The lesson of the busted butt was wasted on you. You refused to grow up.

“You weren’t there, you don’t know what they did to me. It was…”

And that’s still your excuse. Quit using it.

“But, I’m so much better today, I’ve come such a long way and…”

True, however, there’s still much room for improvement isn’t there?

“Yes.”